


Needy

by ros3bud009



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Spark Sexual Interfacing (Transformers), Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:22:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23555257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ros3bud009/pseuds/ros3bud009
Summary: “I keep tellin’ you to get a bigger berth, big guy.”“It has enough space when you take the time to lay on it correctly.”
Relationships: Jazz/Optimus Prime
Comments: 14
Kudos: 108





	Needy

**Author's Note:**

> Started this a while back and today was apparently the day to finish it. Thank god I finally found something my brain was willing to write.
> 
> Hope you're all doing ok out there, and maybe this will bring a little joy. <3

“Jazz,” Optimus ex-vents lowly as his mate slowly but surely pushes his spike inside him. A song and dance they each know by spark and love all the more for it. Tipping his helm back doesn’t stop Optimus from knowing Jazz’s visor is locked on him, watching how his back arches, windshields pressing up while his hips grind down to take Jazz deeper inside his valve.

Jazz bottoms out, Optimus tips his helm further back, and there is a quiet thunk as his finials hit the wall.

And Jazz snickers.

“I keep tellin’ you to get a bigger berth, big guy.”

“It has enough space when you take the time to lay on it correctly.”

“And wait the extra couple’a seconds for you to swing those long legs of yours up and over, and _then_ crawl over and between ‘em?” Jazz is wearing a warm grin as he pulls his hips back enough to sink home again, sparking a wave of pleasure to wash over Optimus. “Sometimes I got the time for that, but not today. Couldn’t wait a second longer to have you, y’know?”

Optimus does know. Most days he is fully capable of maintaining the line between work and play with his mate, a necessity given their roles. And Jazz is just as capable, if not even more stringent than Optimus is.

But that morning had been one morning too many to wake up without his mate in his arms; Optimus’s spark throbbed with longing from the moment he onlined. He couldn’t keep his optics off Jazz, couldn’t stop drawing close when the excuse arose, couldn’t have stopped his servo from clasping Jazz’s shoulder a little too tightly and for too long.

And Jazz had tutted him, teasing him about finding someone else to backseat drive.

But he had also effortlessly slipped into Optimus’s calendar and added an ‘appointment’ for the two of them in this very berth after their shifts. Truthfully, it was all that had gotten Optimus through the day without further derailing Jazz from his own work.

In many ways it had been tortuous, but now, with Jazz’s hips rolling against him, Optimus can’t help a warm chuckle.

“I’m sure I can imagine.”

Jazz’s hum in response reverberates through his chassis as his lips curl up.

“Oh, I _know_ you can. Needy little thing that you are.”

The words are so full of love and affection that Optimus’s chuckle grows, hampered only by the growl of his engine when Jazz holds himself tight to his array, keeping Optimus full and grinding against his anterior node.

“Am I now?”

“For me? No doubt about it.”

Optimus finally chokes on his laughter as Jazz pulls out just to thrust back in _hard_. Being smaller has never kept Jazz from throwing his weight around in their berth, and it’s enough to force Optimus to lift his servos above his helm to brace against the wall to keep his helm from hitting it again.

His groan is evidence enough he doesn’t mind in the least.

“Primus strike me where I stand, but you feel so good around me, Optimus,” Jazz croons as he settles into a rhythm that has them both ventilating hard and fast. His gaze never settles though, tracing up and down Optimus’s frame, only ever lingering anywhere for a couple thrusts before something else catches his visor. His servos track their own path, tracing down Optimus’s neck, fanning out across his windshields, tickling down the slats of his grill, down down down—

Optimus bears down hard on Jazz’s spike when his digit circles his anterior node and both of their engines sputter and hiccup.

“Ooh damn, do that again for me,” Jazz moans as he presses down more firmly on the sensitive nub, his visor that had dimmed with the slow build of their pleasure now bright with intent. Initially he still rolls up into Optimus pushing his hips down, but that starts to slow until he’s completely still.

“Jazz?”

“Don’t worry, I’m still gonna give us both what we want.” Jazz shifts between his thighs, one servo lifting to brace against the wall above Optimus, allowing Jazz to loom over Optimus as the Prime finds himself trapped between the wall and his mate’s hips. “But I just realized how long it’s been since you’ve put on a show for me.”

Optimus grunts as his pedes shift, trying to find purchase, because Jazz may not be moving his hips, but his free servo is relentless against his node. Bright bursts of pleasure and charge pool between his hips and force them into action, desperate to frag himself on Jazz’s unmoving spike. It’s difficult though, his frame too large to lay out on his back across the shorter width of the berth and still be able to place his pedes down and get any real stability. It’s made all the more difficult by how his thighs are spread wide by Jazz’s hips and his knees draped over Jazz’s thighs.

“Yeah, just like that, baby. Dance on my spike.”

“I’d hardly call it a dance. I don’t—hahh,” Optimus ex-vents hotly as he finally manages to gyrate his hips into something resembling a rhythm. It’s uneven and jerky but the push and drag of Jazz’s spike along his valve lining is nonetheless heavenly. “I don’t have your grace.”

“I wouldn’t worry ‘bout that. I like your style just fine.” Jazz’s digits part in a V to feel where Optimus’s valve parts around his spike, massaging the energon-swollen mesh. “It’s fun watching you struggle like this.”

His digits return to Optimus’s node before he can process the way those words light up his processer with affection, rolling it between them. Optimus shouts as one of his pedes kicks out, leaving him to gracelessly twitch his hips and brace his servos against the wall above his head in an attempt to continue chasing his pleasure.

All he can see when he onlines his optics is the brilliant blue of Jazz’s visor drinking him in.

And Optimus’s spark thunders in his chest, desperate to escape.

“Jazz, enough,” Optimus says, lacking any sort of command and sounding all the more like pleading for it. His chest unlatches, and Optimus can see the bright light of his spark peaking through the crack in his reflection off Jazz’s visor.

He doesn’t need to say ‘I need you.’

He knows that Jazz knows.

Hardly a second passes before Jazz grasps his thighs and presses them back as he thrusts into Optimus, picking up the exact rhythm he knows will drive Optimus’s charge sky-high almost painfully quickly. Optimus isn’t flexible enough for his legs to go up very far, but neither of them notice or care.

“A good show deserves a standing ovation,” Jazz murmurs as he slides back and his pedes hit the floor with ease, his hold on Optimus’s thighs guiding him to the edge so their arrays are flush and he can pick up his pace again. Their difference in heights means he can’t merge his spark with Optimus’s when he’s the one spiking, but it doesn’t stop him from nuzzling at the Matrix, kissing along the rim, so close to where Optimus’s spark is intermeshed with the artifact’s core.

Optimus’s servos find Jazz’s hip and helm, grasping at his aft to pull him in closer, harder, _deeper_ , and cradling his face reverently as his charge nears its peak.

“I love you,” Jazz murmurs between one kiss and the next against Optimus’s spark.

And it’s all Optimus needs to overload.

* * *

“Well, what do you know? Guess this berth _is_ big enough if you lay on it correctly.”

Optimus huffs an amused vent as Jazz moves his arm to lay across his grill so that when Jazz settles across his front, his abdomen is supported and there’s room for his ample chest to gently rest against Optimus’s.

“So I keep telling you.”

“Not as much fun though.”

“Hm. I may have to take advantage of that myself someday.”

Jazz rests his chin on his crossed arms as he gives Optimus a sly grin.

“A show for a show? Seems only fair. Do I need to sleep in my own berth for a couple nights to get you all riled up again first?”

“I’d rather you stay here and you know that.”

“Needy little thing.”

Optimus hums as he reaches his free arm up to stroke Jazz’s lower back.

“Perhaps. But I’ll also have far more patience if you stay. I think I’d like to see how long you’ll be able to ‘dance’ for me.”

The purr of Jazz’s engine is divine against Optimus’s chest.

“Optimus Prime, you wicked mech you.” Jazz’s helm tips to the side and the smile on his face softens to the point of being sappy. “Good to see I’m finally rubbing off on you after all these years.”

In lieu of a reply, Optimus moves his servo from Jazz’s back up to his helm, delicately stroking Jazz’s cheek with his thumb.

“I love you, too.”

And Jazz shifts just enough to kiss Optimus’s palm as his visor dims nearly offline.

“Maybe it _is_ about time I just moved in here officially. We haven’t fooled anybody since before we even got to Earth anyway.”

“I’d be more than happy to have you. You know that.”

Jazz snickers as he nuzzles Optimus’s servo. His visor offlines completely.

“‘Course I do. You’ve been trying to have me be a permanent fixture in your berth longer then Bumblebee’s been online.”

“And yet.”

“Can’t very well keep a bond secret if you’re living in the same quarters.”

A line Optimus has heard for just as long. But if Jazz is seriously reconsidering—

“I’ll ask Wheeljack to install a larger berth.”

There’s a beat, and then half of Jazz’s visor onlines, looking at him.

Another beat. Optimus hardly dares ventilate.

And then Jazz’s visor offlines again and he sighs exasperatedly, though it’s at odds with the warm, gentle smile on his lips.

“Make me dance for you first and you have a deal.”

Optimus resets his vocalizer before asking, “Really?”

Jazz shrugs as he makes himself more comfortable, replying casually, “Why not? Soundwave finally figured us out a month ago so it’s old news on both sides at this point. Might actually get more work done without you crowdin’ me—hey!”

Optimus can’t find it in himself to feel guilty as he pins Jazz to the berth underneath him, slotting himself between his mate’s legs.

And, truth be told, Jazz doesn’t look put out. If anything he looks amused by Optimus’s eagerness.

“Y’know, I didn’t mean _now_.”

“I’ve never known you to turn down an opportunity to dance, old friend.”

Jazz snorts, his thighs parting when Optimus palms at his panels.

“Needy little thing,” he murmurs, and it sounds for all the world like ‘I love you’.

**Author's Note:**

> (no doubt the next morning Optimus wakes with a start saying "wait, what did you say about Soundwave finding out???")


End file.
